With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

And that was the other alarm screeching like hell in his head. Yeah, no secret Eliza wasn’t taking vacation. Not unusual for her to pack her gear and arsenal, because she never went anywhere unprepared, but this . . . this was different.

She was in a huge hurry and he could hear the soft curses under her breath as she tried to close the bulging suitcase. She’d never even be able to get it to her car. It weighed more than she did.

But he recognized that determination radiating from her. She’d never let a suitcase zipper defeat her because if it did, Wade was going to take great delight in tormenting her every chance he got that a zipper had kicked her ass.

Finally, her task was completed and then she took only a few moments to pull her long hair back into a ponytail, to Wade’s disappointment, because he had some serious fantasies about all that glorious, silken hair. No, they weren’t in the least bit compatible. They were all wrong for each other, and yet . . . Good things never came easy. They shouldn’t. Anything worth having was worth fighting for. He’d never be happy with a fucking doormat. A woman who was little more than a robot programmed to comply with his demands. Was that really what he wanted? Because right now he was thinking his life would be a lot more interesting if the woman he chose challenged him at every turn. Shit would definitely never get boring. He was used to winning. He expected to win. Always. But sometimes conceding victory was a victory in itself because the reward was all the more sweeter.

Jesus, but he was losing his ever-loving fucking mind. He forced his attention back to Eliza and what she was doing.

She collected her oversize purse—armed with even more weapons if he had to guess. Then she tilted both suitcases, holding on to the two handles, and began dragging them toward the door, strain evident on her face.

He swore softly again. Stupid fucking stubborn woman. Why did he have to be drawn to her and worse actually like and respect her. If he only wanted sex, then he’d go get laid and never even think of the woman again. But once he had a taste of Eliza, he knew once would never be enough, and she deserved better than a quick fuck from a heartless bastard.

He pulled up on that thought, because if he ever got between her legs, there would be nothing quick about him fucking her. If he thought a dozen times inside her would ever be enough to get her out of his system, then he was out of his fucking mind. Eliza wasn’t a woman a man could ever fuck and walk away from, and if they did, they were damn fools.

His breath paused and he melted farther back into the shadows as Eliza’s door opened and she lugged the two large suitcases to her trunk. Then she went back inside but this time when she returned, Wade’s jaw actually dropped. Hell, she could take out an entire city with the contents she very carefully arranged on the floorboard and then wrapped almost lovingly with a soft quilt.

No way in hell he was letting her leave without explaining to him exactly what the fuck had inspired this sudden need for “downtime.” Because she sure as shit wasn’t planning a vacation and the fact that she hadn’t confided in her team, people she was intensely loyal to and trusted implicitly, made his gut tighten with dread because whatever had prompted this was bad. Very bad. And no way was he going to let Eliza shoulder it alone.

He tensed, waited a brief moment for her to be positioned so he wouldn’t be spotted when he made his move, and then he slipped silently to her SUV so when she slammed the trunk she would see him. No gap in the range of sight could prevent her from sensing his presence. Thank God she hadn’t completely lost all vestige of common sense and the instincts that made her so damn good at her job. The minute she knew she wasn’t alone, the trunk slammed with enough force to shatter the back glass and he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol that looked far too big for such a small hand.

“Funny way to greet someone who saved your life,” he said, heavy sarcasm lacing his voice.

He wanted her to think he was here just to piss her off and fuck with her because then it would be less obvious that he was studying her expression, her eyes and body language for anything else that set his what-the-fuck-o-meter off even more than it already was.

She looked . . . relieved?

What the fuck? This was getting more jacked by the minute. But her reaction was gone almost as quickly as it registered, leaving him to wonder if he was losing his mind.

He could swear she sagged the slightest bit. It registered as little more than a twitch, but he’d spent more time than he had liked studying her and getting to know her body language. What the hell was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she in his face threatening to hand him his balls? For that matter, why the fuck was she so pale, despite the brief relief she hadn’t been able to control that had flickered just once in her eyes. Eyes that moved swiftly beyond him, around him, everywhere but him, her chin lifting, almost like an animal scenting prey.

Or a predator. Or a person?

Evidently satisfied that whatever she was looking for was either there or not there—who knew with her—she lowered her gun and then gave him a scowl that lacked its usual authenticity.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” she snarled. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you just trying to get shot? Jesus, Sterling, one would think I would be the last person you’d want to see again and yet you just keep turning up, and let me say, you’re about as welcome as a swarm of mosquitos.”

He stared directly into her eyes, noting that where before she’d never had a problem staring him down with defiance that aroused the hell out of him, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She glanced at his shoulder, his forehead, his ear and evidently his chin because she wouldn’t be looking at his mouth. He wasn’t that lucky.

He didn’t like this. This whole fucked-up, middle of the night meet and greet in front of Eliza’s apartment standing two feet away from a vehicle that could arm a small country. She wasn’t even giving him lip. Because the watered down version of “fuck off” he’d just received was pretty damn pathetic and hardly worthy of someone who ran as hot and fierce so deeply as Eliza.

He purposely assumed an insolent pose, crossing his arms over his chest and staring right at her, despite the fact she was so obviously avoiding his eyes.

“Don’t ever fucking do what again?” he asked calmly. “Check in on you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, since we both know you don’t. And that you’re safe and that you don’t wake up every night with nightmares? You forget I’ve been up close and personal with you twice in the last two days, Eliza. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen what you’re trying and miserably failing at hiding. The people you work with may be blind fools, but I’m not.”